A Crash Course in Elegance
by Samuraiko
Summary: Éclair's transformation into a lady of elegance continues! Next up on the class schedule... flowers and elocution, as the headstrong ES member discovers her favorite type of roses, and begins cultivating an interest in poetry. Chapter Eight is up at last!
1. The Ultimatum

_Note: From the very first episode, I just loved _Kiddy Grade_. And unlike a few anime I'd seen, I loved it from beginning to end. (You know how it goes – you find an anime you adore, and in the **last** episode, the whole thing goes straight to hell, and you end up hating the entire series because of it.) The voice acting is great all the way through (the FUNimation cast is wonderful here), the music is fantastic, the script is fast-paced, and the characters and plot strong all the way through. And besides, the guys are HOT! My personal favorite, though is Armblast… those eyes, that hair, those clothes, that voice… sigh. And you have to admit, the man just has _style

_This was one of those rare stories that practically leapt onto the page (or in this instance, the computer screen) nearly fully written from my imagination._

* * *

**A CRASH COURSE IN ELEGANCE**

"Chief? ES members Éclair and Lumiere are here to see you."

"Good. Send them in, Mercredi."

"Yes, Chief." Mercredi, the efficient secretary and personal assistant to the Chief of the G.O.T.T. opened the door and stepped aside to allow Éclair and Lumiere to enter. The two girls nodded and smiled to Mercredi and crossed the length of Eclipse's office, coming to stand before her desk. Mercredi nodded once to the Chief and quietly closed the door behind her.

For a short while, the Chief did not acknowledge them, or even look up from her terminal.

Lumiere waited quietly, but Éclair began to shift from one foot to the other, looking back and forth from her partner to her boss. "Um… Chief Eclipse?"

Eclipse ignored her for a few moments longer, then she shut down the screen and finally looked over at the two girls.

"Thank you both for coming. Won't you please sit?"

No sooner had the two girls seated themselves on one of the couches and helped themselves to some tea than another knock came at the door, and Mercredi could be heard on the other side. "Chief Eclipse? Inspector Armblast is here, as you requested."

"Thank you, Mercredi, send him in."

The door opened, and in strolled Armblast – inspector for the Global Union, auditor, and the bane of Éclair's existence.

"Oh, great, we have to work with you _again_?" Éclair groaned aloud. "Why me? Whatever sins I committed in my previous lives, I'm sorry already."

"And as always, it's a pleasure to see you, too, Éclair," the young man said gallantly. Before Éclair could stop him, he had lifted her hand to his lips and bestowed a kiss upon it.

"Argh, didn't I tell you _not_ to do that!" she howled, snatching her hand away as though she'd found herself fondling a snake.

A faint smile curved Eclipse's mouth as she gestured Armblast to the other couch. "Actually, Éclair, you might be grateful for his help this time. You see, the Inspector here has volunteered to be your partner for this assignment."

Éclair's head came up and she stared at Eclipse in surprise. "My… my partner? But what about Lumiere?" Then she noticed that the other girl was carefully concealing a smile.

"This is one instance where having a female partner will not be… sufficient, shall we say, for the task at hand," Eclipse said, lifting her teacup to her lips and taking a careful sip.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Éclair asked, her eyes narrowing.

Chief Eclipse met her gaze directly over the rim of her teacup. "As Lumiere is fond of telling you, a lady should always strive for elegance. An ES member, even more so. And while your predilection for rambunctious behavior in the past has usually been overlooked, I feel it is time that we… polished your image, as it were."

"Wait a minute…" Éclair began. "You're not saying that…"

Eclipse touched a control on her desk, and the room-sized monitor flared into existence. Displayed prominently was a picture of Éclair wearing a pizza delivery uniform, a huge smile on her face as she held a pizza box in one hand and a power-of-attorney document in the other.

"In all truth, Éclair, one might find it a bit difficult to take the G.O.T.T. seriously under circumstances such as these."

"Yes, well…" Éclair stammered, but then Eclipse touched another control, and the picture vanished to be replaced by one of Éclair wearing a black catsuit and a mask over her face, standing in the middle of a 6-d arena with one arm over her head as though in victory.

"Then there was the little matter of you impersonating a combat cyborg…" Eclipse drawled, while Éclair blushed hotly.

"I was _trying_ to get a fix on who had the high speed reactor…"

Then another image came up, this time of Éclair slinging an enormous mechanized suit around in the middle of a docking bay.

"Destroying material evidence in a case…"

"They were trying to escape!" she protested. "What was I supposed to do, let them go?"

Another touch of the controls, and there was Éclair again, this time wielding her customized lipstick monofilament whip while riding Donnerschlag with a young man flying as co-pilot.

"Assaulting three members of the Nouvlesse..."

"Those elitists practically dared him into risking his life!" Éclair growled, then she whirled around to point to Armblast, who had prudently remained quiet, although he couldn't quite manage to hide his smirk. "And HIM being there didn't help matters any!"

The inspector shrugged. "At least I never doubted your abilities, Éclair, for getting yourself out of trouble as easily as you get yourself into it."

"OH!" Éclair was up off the couch and halfway across the room to slap him across the face when Eclipse's voice stopped her.

"Stop… right… there."

Éclair halted in her tracks, but continued to glare daggers at Armblast.

"Now, as I was saying," Eclipse went on, as though there had been no outburst, "Inspector Armblast will be your partner on your new assignment."

"And what is it?" Éclair asked warily, still not taking her eyes off Armblast, who was grinning openly at her.

Eclipse touched a different control, and the image of Éclair and Tim riding on Donnerschlag was replaced by an elegant building, one that looked much like Lumiere's house.

"This is _L'Ecole_," Eclipse explained as the younger woman turned to look at the display.

"_L'Ecole_?"

"French, for 'the school,'" Lumiere said helpfully.

Éclair rolled her eyes. "I know what it means, but what kind of school is it?"

"It is a finishing school for young ladies of society," Lumiere replied, and Eclipse nodded.

"It is not so exclusive as the schools that the Nouvlesse have, but I believe it will serve our purposes nicely."

"What do you… oh, no. No, no, no," Éclair protested as she realized what was going on. "No way am I attending some… some debutante daycare!"

"Oh, yes, Éclair," Eclipse said, taking another sip of her tea. "You will be accompanied there by Inspector Armblast… starting tomorrow."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Éclair wailed.

At Éclair's crestfallen expression, Armblast smiled cheerfully. "Cheer up, Éclair, just think of it. Learning how to dance, how to dress, how to actually hold a knife in some manner other than as an offensive weapon…"

"ARGH!" Éclair howled again, starting across the room once more with every intention of throttling the inspector. "One more word out of you and I'll find a way to disembowel you with a shrimp fork!"

"That's enough, Éclair," Eclipse said firmly, although the Chief was clearly trying her hardest to hang onto her severe expression.

"But why him?" Éclair pleaded, turning back to Eclipse. "Couldn't you have paired me up with someone like Dextera or Sinistra? Tweedledum? Even Cesario would be an improvement over…"

"And why not me?" Armblast said in an aggrieved, long-suffering tone. "What could someone like Dextera or Cesario offer that I can't? I happen to be quite charming, well-dressed, good-looking, sensitive…"

"Too bad modesty isn't in your catalog of virtues," Éclair shot back. Then she looked back at Eclipse. "Please, Chief, you can't stick me with him. Please? I'll buy Viola dinner for a month if you'll let me borrow Cesario for this!"

"As I recall, you barely had enough to cover your own meal at Ubu when you and Ricki were there last… before you nearly brought the place down, that is," Eclipse said dryly.

"That wasn't _my_ fault!" Éclair screamed, stomping her foot in absolute frustration. "How was _I_ supposed to know that Laughing Jester was planning a gang meeting at the same restaurant I was visiting on my day off, for goodness' sake? And that was after having to put up with some lecherous creep acting like… acting just like Armblast!"

"Lecherous? Me?" Armblast said in amazement, spreading one hand across his chest in mock dismay. "Why, Éclair, I'm shocked at you, thinking such a thing!"

Eclipse looked over at Lumiere, who was still sitting quietly on the couch, sipping her tea and trying very hard not to giggle. "Lumiere, you will be on standby these next two weeks, working with Mercredi in improving the G.O.T.T.'s computer network. Also, I've arranged for the _La Muse_ to have her general maintenance scheduled for this time."

Lumiere got to her feet and placed her hand over her heart. "Yes, Chief. Understood."

The Chief looked to Éclair, who was standing with her face in her hands, moaning, "Why me?" quietly to herself over and over.

"Éclair, your assignment is to attend _L'Ecole_ for two weeks, under the monitoring of Inspector Armblast. I expect you to conduct yourself in a manner befitting an ES member."

With a sigh, Éclair placed her hand over her heart, while placing her other hand where Eclipse couldn't see it and giving Armblast an obscene gesture. "Yes, Chief. Understood."

"So sorry to disappoint you, Éclair, but if it's any consolation, I did ask Sinistra and Dextera if one of them would partner you in this assignment."

"And what did they say?" Éclair asked.

"That they would buy _me_ dinner for a month to not assign them to work with you." Eclipse gave the other woman a slow smile. "I hear that the food at Ubu is quite good, and that both Dextera and Sinistra are very good dancers, in addition to being gentlemen. Enjoy your classes, Éclair."

_To be continued_…


	2. Éclair's First Day

_Note: Wow, it looks like a few people like my little story! (And thanks to those of you who have reviewed so far, please spread the word! It's been ages since I've written a 'light-hearted' story.) To answer the question that a couple have asked via PM, this story takes place just before the gang heads over to Aure, the "Secret Flower Garden." And as far as Sinistra/Éclair or Dextera/Éclair stories go, I haven't read any yet, but I might try my hand at one... hmm..._

**

* * *

A Crash Course in Elegance**

_Chapter Two_

The following morning, Éclair was awakened by a loud pounding on her door.

"Good morning, Éclair! Rise and shine!" came Armblast's cheerful voice through the door.

"This has to be a nightmare," Éclair groaned aloud. "I'm actually going to wake up any minute now and realize this was all just a horrible nightmare."

"My feelings are crushed," Armblast replied, knocking even louder. "You realize that most women would be giving their eyeteeth for having me knocking on their door first thing in the morning?"

"Go away!" she moaned, rolling over and covering her face with the pillow. "The sun's barely even up!"

"The early ES member gets the worm! Come on, Éclair, time to get up!" There was a pause. "Or would you rather I came in there and made you get out of bed?"

Éclair was out of bed like a shot. "Don't you dare!" she screeched.

"Ah, you sound much more awake now. Hurry up and get ready, we still need to swing by G.O.T.T. headquarters before we go to _L'Ecole_, but I'll take you to breakfast before your classes start!"

"The condemned woman's last meal," Éclair muttered, before raising her voice again. "Fine, I want breakfast at Fleur! And you stay out there while I get dressed!"

"As if I would ever entertain the notion that you would be nice enough to let me in and offer me coffee," Armblast said dryly through the door. "I can see which Chief Eclipse is making you attend these classes if you insist on making me stand out in the hallway."

"Put that briefcase to yours of good use and turn it into a stool or something," Éclair shot back as she disappeared into the bathroom.

An hour later, the two were seated at Armblast's usual table at the small cafe, since Éclair had decided to spite the auditor by taking forever to get cleaned up, dressed, and ready to go.

"Well, it's nice to see you do maintain at least one feminine habit - you simply refuse to get ready to go out in anything less than an hour's time," he said with amusement, studying Éclair across the table.

"Hi, Éclair, you're up early! Don't tell me you're actually going to work on time for a change!" Caprice said cheerfully as she approached. Then she saw the smug grin on Armblast's face and the irritated expression on Éclair's, and her own cheerful smile faltered.

"Um, Éclair... are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm just thrilled to death," Éclair said through gritted teeth. "I'd like my usual, please."

"Sure, and for you, sir?"

"My usual, Caprice, and thank you," the inspector said with a charming smile, and Caprice blushed slightly as she headed behind the counter.

"There, you see what a little charm gets you?" Armblast asked Éclair, who stuck her tongue out at him. "Perhaps I should start your lessons a little earlier."

"Don't go getting ahead of yourself, Armblast. The Chief said I had to attend this school, _not _have you teach me yourself." Éclair rested her elbows on the table and began massaging her temples. "God, it's barely seven o'clock and I already have a headache. This getting up early thing is so not me."

"You might want to get your elbows off the table, by the way," Armblast said, raising his eyebrows. Éclair lifted her eyes to his without raising her head, stuck out her tongue, and then went back to staring at the tabletop.

Armblast leaned across the table.

"I know you find this hard to believe, Éclair, but I really do want you to succeed at this," the auditor said quietly. "You, more so than any other ES member, may be the proverbial 'diamond in the rough,' but I truly believe you could outshine them all if you really tried."

"Save the flattery for someone who doesn't know you," she said wearily, continuing to rub her forehead.

Armblast frowned. "Do you really have a headache, or are you just trying to get out of going to class?"

"Does it matter?"

Then she started as he reached out and gently touched his hands to her temples, and suddenly her headache disappeared.

"Wha... how did you do that?" She sat up straight and stared at him.

He wiggled his fingers at her like a stage performer as Caprice arrived with their food. "Magic, of course. Why else do you think they call me Wizard?"

* * *

Armblast pulled up in front of G.O.T.T. headquarters, got out, and held the door open for Éclair.

"So what are we doing here?"

"I promised the Chief I would drop something off for Lumiere to look at when she had the time. Operations has sent over some possible upgrades and the Chief wanted to sit down and discuss them with her while she had some time this week."

Éclair shrugged and followed Armblast inside. At the front desk, Ricki and Bonita were smiling and bowing to a man as he headed toward one of the far corridors.

"Have a nice day, sir, and enjoy your visit to the G.O.T.T.!" Ricki sang out, then she glanced over and saw Éclair walking in beside Armblast. "Oh, hi, Éclair! What brings you in your day off?"

"Actually, she's here with me today, ladies," Armblast said with a smile and a wink, and both girls giggled.

"Oh, shut up already!" Éclair said in frustration, grabbing Armblast by the elbow and forcibly steering him toward the elevators.

Along the corridor, they passed Tweedledee and Tweedledum, who had just gotten off E Shift. The twins nodded to Armblast politely.

"Inspector," Tweedledee said with a smile, but then her eyes widened at the sight of Éclair. "Éclair? What are you doing here today?"

"It's a long story..." Éclair began in a "don't ask" tone of voice.

"She's actually on assignment with me for the next two weeks," Armblast said helpfully.

"Really?" Tweedledum asked, looking at Éclair. "I'm surprised that Lumiere's not with you."

"Well, the Chief did want us to spend some quality time together," Armblast replied easily, nonchalantly dodging the heel of Éclair's shoe that she attempted to drive into his foot. "But I'm afraid that Chief Eclipse is waiting for us, so if you'll please excuse us..."

"Of course." The twins nodded again and left.

"Are you going to rub it in with every single person we meet?" Éclair hissed as they got into a waiting elevator.

"Now why would I do that?" Armblast protested, looking hurt as they were whisked up to the top floor. "You'll notice I haven't told anyone exactly what it is that you'll be doing for the next two weeks, have I?"

Then the doors opened, and Éclair and Armblast found themselves face to face with Alv and Dvergr. The two women stopped in surprise.

"Well, well. In trouble again, Éclair?" Alv said in that casually biting manner she had perfected ages ago.

"Actually, no, I'm not," Éclair said, mentally gnashing her teeth at her bad luck of running into the two senior S-Class ES members.

"Oh, I see, I'm sorry. I must have been mistaken then when I saw that application form to _L'Ecole_ on Mercredi's desk with your name on it," the older girl said, a hint of a smirk playing around her mouth, and Éclair's teeth-gnashing went from mental to physical.

"And good morning to you, Inspector Armblast," Dvergr said, her voice soft, and Armblast bowed.

"A pleasure to see you, as always."

"I take it that you are the unfortunate one assigned to monitoring Éclair's performance?"

"It's actually a task I look forward to," Armblast said politely.

"Although we do still owe you one for stealing our ship," Alv said easily, without removing her eyes from Éclair's.

"I did give it back, and I even arranged for a washing and polishing," Armblast reminded her. "_And _I restocked your wine supply, with better quality wine, I might add."

"Of course," Alv said, her eyes finally moving to lock onto Armblast's, but he returned her stare look for look, until at last Alv shrugged and the two women brushed past them.

"Have fun, Éclair," she said with a smirk, just as the doors closed.

"Oh, why, why, _why _did _Alv _have to be the one to find out?" Éclair wailed as they approached Mercredi's desk. "The Chief should have just hung up a sign!"

As they reached Mercredi's desk, the door to Eclipse's office opened, and out stepped Mercredi and Lumiere. "Oh, hello!" Mercredi said cheerfully. "You're right on time!"

Armblast smiled at her and at Lumiere, then lightly touched the side of his briefcase. There was a brief glow, and then a large sheaf of documents appeared. "Here you are, ladies. The recommendations made by Operations for the upgrades to the network. Hopefully you won't find the work too tedious?"

"Oh, we'll be fine," Lumiere said confidently, taking the stack of papers and quickly skimming over them. "Most of this is just a rehash of the recommendations I had made to Operations a month or so ago, but it seems that the Operations Division isn't happy unless they suggest something as their own idea. And anyway, shouldn't you two be running along? I'd hardly think Éclair would want to be late on her first day, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Éclair grumbled. "Well, let's get this over with."

* * *

Éclair stared balefully up at the large building before her. A mansion of easily 50 rooms or more, the outside was tasteful grey marble with occasional growths of ivy and carefully tended wild roses. A smooth-pebble drive curved past the front door, and immaculate flowerbeds followed the line of the house. Everything about the place practically reeked opulence and elegance... two things that usually set her teeth on edge.

And of course, having Armblast standing beside her wasn't helping her mood in the least.

"Well, here we are," he said cheerfully. "Elegant, isn't it?"

"This much _elegance _should be illegal," Éclair said bitterly. "But I suppose I should be grateful that this isn't a Nouvlesse school."

"Yes, I imagine wielding your lipstick here wouldn't be 'the done thing,' as it were," Armblast agreed. "Although your handling of those three Nouvlesse on Silvana was rather... innovative, to say the least."

"Pity the Chief didn't see things that way." With a loud sigh, Éclair headed up the driveway toward the front door, and reached up to knock when the door was opened suddenly.

And Éclair gulped.

The black-haired woman standing in the doorway was almost as petite as Lumiere was, and rather squat, like an irate mushroom. She squinted up at Éclair myopically, and then over at Armblast.

"So, Auditor, I take it that this is what I have to work with?" she declared in a long-suffering voice.

"A great pleasure as always, Madam Tyrian," Armblast said smoothly, bowing and kissing her hand graciously. Then he stepped back and waved one hand toward the young woman beside him. "This charming young lady is Éclair."

"Hmph... 'lightning.' I suppose it could be considered charming in a rather fatuous way," the woman said, studying Éclair in such a way that she felt as though she were under a microscope. She smiled nervously, and the woman's eyes narrowed.

"A pretty enough face."

She stood on tiptoe and abruptly reached up for a handful of Éclair's hair.

"Hey!" Éclair protested, but the woman ignored her.

"But she has no idea how to take care of that mane..."

Then she took Éclair's hand and studied it.

"... or her skin. And of course, the less said about those clothes, the better."

Éclair looked down self-consciously at her windbreaker, jeans, sandals, and t-shirt that she wore on her days off.

"Still," Madam Tyrian went on, "I've had worse... although not in recent memory. Are you certain about this, Auditor?"

"Yes, I am, as is Chief Eclipse."

By now, Éclair looked totally miserable.

Madam Tyrian let go of Éclair's hand and nodded. "I'll let you in on a little secret, young lady. Your Chief must think very highly of you."

Éclair's head came up. "Of... of me? But why? I mean, she sent me here..."

"To learn from me. Do you think your Chief Eclipse would have sent you to me, the harshest taskmaster in the society world, if she did not think you were up to the task, hmm?" She shook her finger at Éclair's midsection, the highest thing she could reach. "I gather not."

With that, she turned on her heel to lead them into the house. "Come along, you two. We have much to do... Cinderella may only have had until midnight, but you'll find that two weeks may pass even more quickly than you think!"

_To be continued_...


	3. The Lessons Begin

_Note: This is my little homage/revenge to attending 'finishing school' myself more than a few years ago. I had to learn all this social etiquette stuff that years later is still drilled into my mind (how to sit, how to walk, what wine goes with what food, getting in and out of a car, how to pack for any length of trip, how to write thank-you notes, etc etc etc). At the time, I rebelled something fierce because I saw most of my classmates as drones. However, as I got older and began attending more social functions, I realized just how helpful it was in keep me from making a total a of myself in public. So I thought, "Well, if I thought I needed it, then someone like Éclair DEFINITELY would!"_

_Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up, things have been just chaotic around our place these last few weeks. Ugh. Working on a dozen stories at once doesn't help that much either. But after a long wait, here we go again! Poor Éclair..._

**

* * *

A Crash Course in Elegance **

_Chapter Three_

Éclair and Armblast followed Madam Tyrian through the large house. Éclair swallowed hard at the sight of some of the rooms they passed - very elegant, very tasteful, and very expensive.

"I feel bad just breathing in here," Éclair whispered to Armblast, who smiled and patted her arm.

"You'll be fine, Éclair, don't worry. Just relax and be your usual charming self. You managed to handle those Nouvlesse on Silvana just fine, remember?"

"I was in a hygenic suit, I couldn't exactly do much of _anything_!" she said frantically. "This is _totally_ different!"

He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't think I will never understand you. You have no qualms about leaping headfirst into the wildest of fights and impossible odds, but the thought of etiquette training has your knees knocking."

As they passed a library, they could see two or three other girls sitting with open books, reading aloud as an older woman sat and listened.

"Voice and diction lessons," Armblast whispered to Éclair when he saw the slightly puzzled look on her face.

A few moments later, they walked by what looked like an enormous ballroom, where a waltz was playing. Four girls, partnered with each other, were practicing their dancing while a matronly looking lady called out the time, banging the floor with her cane.

In a nearby greenhouse, a young woman was lecturing three girls about the language of flowers.

At last, Madam Tyrian led the two of them into a large sitting room. With a sigh, she reclined on a long divan and looked down her nose at Éclair.

"Sit," she told Éclair shortly, pointing to a winged armchair beside her. Armblast quietly stood behind her until Madam Tyrian also gestured him to a chair.

Éclair sat nervously.

"Allow me to correct myself. Sit up straight, Miss Éclair."

"I _am_ sitting up straight!" she protested, but a glare from Madam Tyrian had her changing her posture until Éclair thought she would throw her back out.

"Uncross your legs, that is not a barstool you're sitting on. If you must sit in any fashion other than with both feet on the floor, tuck your legs to one side and cross your ankles."

Éclair did so, trying not to grimace at the unfamiliar position.

"And stop making faces, one would think I had you stretched out on the rack!"

Éclair tried to make her features look serene, as Chief Eclipse often appeared.

"Better. How you comport yourself is fundamental, even in something as mundane as sitting," Madam Tyrian told her. "Everything must be effortless, graceful, and above all, elegant."

"Yes, ma'am," Éclair replied, her eyes wandering around the room, taking in everything.

"Then you can start by paying attention!" Madam Tyrian said sharply, and Éclair's gaze snapped straight back to her. "How are you going to convey interest in what others say if your eyes are always elsewhere?"

With that, the dark-haired woman reached down and picked up a sheaf of papers from the low table in front of her. "Now, your schedule for the next two weeks..." She extracted a few sheets of paper and handed them to Éclair, as well as presenting a set to Armblast. "You may take a moment to look over it."

Éclair's eyes were growing wider and wider as she read. "All of this... in only two weeks?" she asked in disbelief. From sunup until sundown, she saw classes in beauty care, clothing, wine appreciation, floral arrangement, dining manners, physical training, voice study, and on and on it went. Then there were the rules on what she could and could not wear for classes, her diet for the next two weeks...

"What's the matter, Éclair?" Armblast said softly from behind her. "Afraid you can't handle it?"

"Shut up!" she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "If I can take down a crime syndicate, I can certainly handle this!"

"That's good to know," Madam Tyrian said dryly. "You will need that spunk to make it through my training." She gestured gracefully to the papers Éclair held. "Do you have any questions?"

Dragging her focus back to the papers she was holding, Éclair shook her head. "Not that I can think of," she said slowly. "But my head already feels like it's spinning."

"Good, no time like the present," the older woman said with a smile, rising to her feet. "We'll begin with a light repast, then. Your education commences now. While you are in my house, you will do what I say, when I say it. Are we clear, Miss Éclair?"

"Yes, ma'am," Éclair said sadly, and Madam Tyrian paused.

"What is it now?"

"I just feel like... like the Chief and you and Armblast are all trying to turn me into something I'm not." Éclair waved her hands helplessly. "Lumiere and Tweedledee and Dvergr are the ones who are graceful under pressure, not me. I just wade in and blow things up and... and try to have fun!" Her shoulders slumped. "It's like being me isn't good enough, all of a sudden."

"That's not true, Éclair," Armblast said softly, stepping beside her. "No one doubts your abilities in the field, least of all the Chief. But don't you think you owe it to yourself, more than anyone, to hone all of your skills and talents to their fullest?"

"That's why I have Lumiere," Éclair protested, but the auditor shook his head.

"And what will you do if you ever lose her? Who will you have, then?"

Éclair blanched, and Armblast sighed. "I'm not trying to be harsh, Éclair, I'm just making an observation."

"Which you do so well," Madam Tyrian replied, looking at the young woman thoughtfully. "Tell me, Miss Éclair. If I gave you my word that I wish to enhance that vibrant spirit of yours, rather than break it, would you trust me?"

Éclair turned to the society matron. "Yes, ma'am. I think I would."

"Then it is time for lunch, and this matter is settled. It is bad for the conversation to have such gloomy faces at the table."

* * *

As they entered the dining room, Éclair was unable to stop herself from blurting out, "Wow! You could seat the entire GU Senate in here!"

Madam Tyrian gave her a narrow glance, and Éclair clapped her hand over her mouth. "Not quite, Miss Éclair." She pointed to a seat, which Armblast thoughtfully drew out for Éclair, and then he drew one for Madam Tyrian, and at last seated himself. With a graceful, understated flourish, Madam Tyrian unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap. Éclair did her best to imitate the movement, but nearly ended up dropping her napkin in doing so.

"It takes practice," was all Madam Tyrian said.

The society dame picked up a small silver bell and rang it. In came a young woman in servant's clothes bearing three shallow bowls.

"The first course, soup," Madam Tyrian pronounced. "And what has Etienne prepared today, Genevieve?"

"Lobster bisque, madame," the maid replied, carefully placing a bowl before each of them. She bobbed a quick curtsey and then vanished through the swinging doors.

Éclair studied the silverware, then surreptitious glanced over at Madam Tyrian, who smiled slightly and picked up the outermost spoon.

Armblast leaned over to whisper, "A helpful suggestion - always start from the outside and work your way in."

"Until you find yourself trying to eat soup with a napkin, Inspector," Madam Tyrian replied tartly before looking at Éclair. "Always wait for your host or hostess to begin, then follow. And for heaven's sake, if it's too hot, don't blow on it, you're not drinking Turkish coffee." Éclair froze just as she had been drawing in a breath to do just that. "Sip it, then replace the spoon and wait a few moments to cool."

With that, Éclair's training began. First the apertif, the soup, the fish, the fowl, the salad, the cheese, the demitasse, then dessert. Even with all of the courses set before her, she barely managed a few mouthfuls of each meal as orders and rules came so quickly that she could hardly keep them all straight.

The angle of her spoon must be just so, a fork and knife held thus when cutting her food.  
Red wines were best suited to richer foods, while whites went with the lighter dishes. Of course, brandies and ports were best suited for the end of a meal, while champagne might be sipped throughout.  
The napkin was used to lightly dab at the lips, not wipe the face.  
When in doubt, it was better to listen to the dinner conversation and pose the occasional question rather than attempt to lead it.  
One did not shout across the table, nor was kicking the shin of the person sitting next to her acceptable behavior.  
Servants are quietly but sincerely thanked, but not effusively so - after all, their job is to serve.

And on and on it went, until Éclair was hungrier at the end of the meal than she had been at the beginning. When she glanced at her watch, she was astonished to see that they had been at the table for over two and a half hours.

"I think that is enough for your first day," Madam Tyrian said as she led them back to the drawing room. "Tomorrow, your lessons will truly begin. This evening, however, when you go home, I want you to wash that mane of yours thoroughly."

"My hair?" Éclair said, touching it self-consciously. "Does... it look dirty or something?"

"No, thank God. But it is easier to style it when it has been washed the night before." Madam Tyrian glanced at Armblast. "I would also prefer she be better dressed tomorrow. Does she have more appropriate attire?"

"I believe so, madame," he replied, looking Éclair up and down. "Perhaps the clothes you were wearing to the Energy Distribution Center might be better suited for classes here."

"And this time, Miss Éclair, I expect you to be on time. Punctuality is very important in society. The Nouvlesse might think that nothing important happens until they get there, but the rest of us know better."

"Yes, ma'am," Éclair said faintly.

"Inspector, I suggest you take this young woman somewhere and feed her, she looks rather overwhelmed," Madam Tyrian said, her voice amused. Armblast grinned and took Éclair's arm to lead her toward the door. "But at least she's still on her feet, which is more than I can for some of the shrinking violets I work with. Which reminds me... are you allergic to any flowers, Miss Éclair?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no."

"Good. I will see you tomorrow then. Get plenty of sleep. You'll need it."

_To be continued_...


	4. A Night on the Town

_Note: ALL RIGHT ALREADY! I know it's been a while since I updated this story, but I realized it was too long when anonymous entries started showing up in my LiveJournal telling me to get a move on. Trust me, I missed this story, but the hell of real life derailed many of my stories, not just this one. However, my loyal readers have raised their voices in protest, so the misadventures of Éclair and Armblast finally continue!_

* * *

**A Crash Course in Elegance**

_Chapter Four_

"So, what did you think of your first day?"

Éclair heaved a deep sigh, closed her eyes, and leaned her head wearily against the headrest of Armblast's car, having tossed the folder of papers that Madam Tyrian had given her into the backseat. "I don't think I'm going to survive this."

Armblast quietly chuckled to himself. "Poor Éclair. Would dinner help at all? Or at least brighten your outlook somewhat? My treat."

"I just want to go home and drown myself in my bathtub. It would be less painful than going through this for the next two weeks." She burrowed down further into her seat. "I can even feel it now... death by Vanilla Jasmine bubblebath."

"Now, now, you're not the type to give up. And while seeing you in the bathtub would certainly be appealing-"

Without even opening her eyes, Éclair punched Armblast in the arm hard enough to leave a bruise. "Dream on, pervert!"

The auditor, however, cheerfully went on as though nothing had happened. "-maybe I should just drag you out tonight and feed you. After all, I'd bet a great deal that you don't have anything to eat in your refrigerator."

"And exactly how do you know that, Mr. Know-It-All?"

"If your fridge looks anything like I imagine it does, you have two hundred condiment bottles, but no actual food in your apartment whatsoever."

"Your faith in me is overwhelming," Éclair said sourly, and Armblast laughed aloud. "I'm not really dressed for a night on the town, anyway, so skip trying to impress me and just take me home already."

"Nope, sorry, can't do it," Armblast said with a smile. "It would be remiss in my duties as your auditor and partner to abandon you in your apartment while clearly suffering from the combined effects of low blood sugar and depression. And I know just the cure for the hypoglycemic blues."

Against her will, Éclair found herself smirking. "And they would be?"

* * *

A half hour later, Éclair was pleasantly surprised to find herself at an upscale restaurant not far from G.O.T.T. headquarters. Armblast had cajoled her into changing into a dress and high heels by threatening to call Tweedledee for fashion advice, and rather than give the auditor the satisfaction of seeing her turn down a challenge, Éclair had agreed to change and go out with him. Now, she was actually glad she had; moping in her apartment all night would really have served no purpose, although she would have cheerfully died before admitting it to him. 

She was, however, mildly irked about the reception they'd gotten once they had arrived. In the twenty minutes that she'd been changing her clothes, the auditor had pulled out his phone and called ahead. By the time they arrived, half the management was there, bowing to him and offering to usher them to their table. Always the perfect gentleman, he'd held her chair for her and waited for her to be seated comfortably before sitting himself and offering her a menu.

"You know, I don't think I'm ever going to understand you," she told him flatly, staring at the menu she held in her hands. "One minute, you can almost be tolerable, and the next..."

"Tolerable?" he repeated, staring at her over the top of his menu. "Is that all you have to say about my 'list of virtues'?"

"Anything more and there'd be no room for me at this table," she replied. "Your ego would take up all the available space."

"I'm wounded to the core," Armblast said blithely. "For that, you get no dessert."

"And I thought you were above cheap shots." Her outraged gasp had him openly laughing at her, but any further comment was forestalled by the arrival of the sommelier. While Éclair studied the menu, Armblast held a lengthy discussion on the restaurant's available wines with the steward before finally making a selection. The sommelier bowed and left to bring their wine, and Armblast turned back to Éclair.

"What would you like to start with?"

"Just salad for me, please."

"Come on, surely that's not all you intend to order, is it? Not after seeing you at breakfast!" Then he frowned slightly, for Éclair had a slightly uncomfortable expression on her face. "What's wrong?"

She glanced around as though afraid of being overheard, then blushing hotly, she leaned closer to hiss, "I don't have enough money to cover my part of dinner."

"I said it was my treat, so get whatever you'd like," he reassured her. "After all, you did very well for your first day at _L'Ecole_, so consider this a celebration."

Éclair still looked uncertain, and Armblast sighed. "Don't worry, okay? Just enjoy yourself for a little while."

For a long time, she didn't say anything, but just stared him in the face, looking for any hint or sign that he was making fun of her or not being serious. All he did was gaze back at her, waiting for her to make a decision, and at last, she nodded.

A moment later, their server appeared at Éclair's elbow. "Good evening, miss... sir... may I be of assistance this evening?"he asked with a slight bow. Armblast glanced at Éclair, then looked up at the server and began ordering for them both - appetizers, entrees, side dishes, and all. The server nodded, scribbling the whole time, but as he was about to leave, Éclair stopped him.

"By the way..." she whispered, and the server leaned closer to hear her. "If he tells you that I don't want dessert, he's lying."

Armblast choked on the wine he had just swallowed, and the server laughed before covering his mouth and hurriedly excusing himself. Éclair just smiled serenely at him and sipped some water.

A few minutes later, the server returned with a small tray, and placed it on the table between Armblast and Éclair, then bowed and left again.

Éclair stared balefully at the tray. "Do I even want to know?"

"Oysters," he replied, lifting one and eating it. "Considered by many cultures to be an aphrodisiac. And before you take my head off, I ordered them because I happen to like them, not because I have designs on your body. Besides, they're generally considered a delicacy."

"Exactly how do you eat these?"

Armblast demonstrated for her. "Lift the shell to your mouth, tilt it slightly and let it slide down your throat. Right, just like that-" Then his eyes went wide as Éclair gagged. "What's wrong now?"

Wincing, she closed her eyes and resolutely swallowed before opening her eyes again.

"They're raw!" she gasped, lashing out with one foot to kick him under the table. "Don't you think you could have warned me?"

"Of course they're raw, that's how you eat them." As if to prove his point, he ate another, then sipped at his champagne. "What in the world am I going to do with you?"

A moment later, the server returned, this time with a small plate of escargot, and placed it in front of Éclair. "Perhaps these will be more to your liking, miss," he said softly with a kind smile, then he departed again.

"Snails?" she hissed at Armblast, who shrugged.

"Try them first before criticizing. Be open to new ideas. Besides, at least those are cooked, if it makes you feel any better."

Gathering her courage, she picked up the small fork and tried one, and her eyes widened in surprise at the delicate taste of butter and garlic. "It's delicious!"

Armblast smiled at her, quickly snagging one off her plate before she could stop him. "You see what a little sense of daring gets you? I told you that you would like it. Sip some champagne with it."

She did so, startled at how the flavor of the alcohol changed. "What... why does it taste different now?"

"Wines bring out the flavors of some foods, and vice versa," he explained. "It's for that reason that people recommend certain wines with certain foods - white wines with lighter dishes, red wines with most meats, and so on. I'm sure that Madam Tyrian will be going on at length about the subject during your classes."

"Wow." Éclair tucked in to the rest of her snails, pointedly ignoring Armblast's chuckle while he finished off the oysters. The server quietly returned and cleared their plates before bringing out two shallow bowls of soup.

Cautiously she sniffed at it. It smelled good, with a hint of a spice or herb that she couldn't quite place, and she looked questioningly at Armblast.

"Mushroom leek," Armblast said quietly to her as he picked up his spoon.

"How do people come up with these things?" she asked as she ate her soup, enjoying the taste. "I mean, I would never have thought of combining some of this stuff."

"I'm not quite certain, but as long as it's good, does it really matter?" he asked.

Éclair thought about that one for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I guess not."

Next came salads, and then their main courses - filet mignon, Éclair's favorite, and done just how she liked it.

"Okay, now that's just too spooky for words," she said flatly, staring at her plate before giving Armblast a suspicious look. "Just how did you know?"

"Auditors know everything," he said with a grin. "Actually, I cheated - I called Lumiere while you were changing at your apartment and asked her."

"Such consideration," she said mockingly, but the smile in her eyes was genuine as she ate.

At his encouragement, she sipped at the cabernet/merlot blend that he'd ordered, amazed at how it brought out the flavor of the meat, and how in turn, the meat enhanced the richer texture of the wine.

"See?" Armblast asked. "Not all culture and high society stuff is bad. With a little practice, I daresay that you might even get used to it."

"You don't really eat like this all the time, do you?" she asked in disbelief. "Wouldn't you, you know, get tired of it after a while?"

"Most times, yes, I do eat like this. Sometimes, I admit to craving something a bit simpler, more like what you usually eat on a regular basis,but well..." He shrugged gracefully. "Everyone has his or her vice. Mine happens to be a refined and profound appreciation for the finer things in life."

"Snob."

"I prefer to think of myself as a sensualist," he replied with a perfectly straight face, while Éclair laughed at him.

* * *

Even she was surprised at how the evening seemed to fly by. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the food, maybe it was the atmosphere, but by the end of the meal, she had to admit that it had been some time since she had really enjoyed herself. 

After dinner, over coffee, a small band began to play, and Armblast rose. To her surprise, he bowed slightly and held one hand out to her. "Would you care to dance?"

"Um..." She looked out at the dance floor, then back at him. "You do realize that I have two left feet."

"I'll take my chances," he said softly. "Dance with me."

Éclair stared up at Armblast, her golden eyes wide. In all the time that she had known, she had never seen that look in the auditor's eyes before - something between appreciation and... hope?

Abruptly, she found herself unable to look away from him; even her breath seemed to catch in her chest as he stood over her, patiently waiting for her. Then she placed her hand in his and followed him out onto the dance floor.

For a moment, he peered closer at her face, then smiled broadly. "No lipstick - good. I'd hate to think what would happen if you triggered another earthquake."

Éclair growled at him. "Blame Ricki for that one, not me. I told her not to put that stuff on my face, but no..."

"Do you actually know how to dance?" he asked her, and she shook her head.

"Nope, I always thought it was just a matter of, you know, swaying to the music."

He quietly laughed. "No, not quite. Just follow me."

With a silent prayer and a sigh, she did so, and actually managed not to step on Armblast's feet more than once or twice per song.

"You see?" he said after a while. "This isn't so bad."

"As long as you don't start spouting some cheesy pick-up lines like the last guy I danced with," Éclair muttered. "And then he tried to kiss me! Can you imagine? The nerve of him!"

"Can't say I blame him." Armblast's reply was almost lost beneath the music, and she glanced up at him.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

_To be continued_...


	5. Skin Care, Hair Care, and Makeup, oh my!

_Note: Sorry to have kept you guys waiting, I was desperately trying to finish my two books first (DRAGONBALL Z: AND THE GREATEST OF THESE and SAMURAI 7: THE SWORD OF THE SOUL) before picking up the short stories again. (And now they're both done and up in their entirety on the FF site, and I have a little less than a month before I start on the next book. Yay.) At any rate, here we are again with the further misadventures of Éclair and Armblast. Enjoy..._

* * *

**A CRASH COURSE IN ELEGANCE**

_Chapter Five_

Early the next morning, Éclair was jarred out of a sound sleep by the abrupt pounding on her door. With a loud yelp, she instinctively tried to leap to her feet, got her legs twisted up in her sheets, and fell out of bed to land on the floor with a thump and a muffled curse.

"Oww..." she groaned, lying facedown on the floor.

"Good morning, Éclair," she heard from the other side of the door. "Did I wake you up?"

"I'm going to kill him," Éclair mumbled into her carpet.

"What was that?" Armblast's voice was cheerful. "Sorry, I didn't hear you."

"NOTHING!" Éclair bellowed, finally managing to disentangle herself from her sheets, and taking a moment to pull on her jeans, went to open the door. Armblast was seated on his briefcase, the morning paper open in front of him, two steaming cups of coffee near his feet.

"Ah, you're awake." He folded up the paper, reached down and handed her one of the cups of coffee. "Here, you look like you could use this."

"Gimme that," she grunted, snatching the coffee out of his hands and draining the cup in one long gulp.

"The manners of a queen," Armblast said in amusement, sipping coffee from his own cup. "But hopefully it will wake you up enough to get ready. Did you pick out suitable clothes for today?"

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, waving him inside. "Just sit in my kitchen and stay out of my way while I get ready."

"Hmm, I've heard more gracious invitations in my time, but I guess that's an improvement from being forced to sit out in your hallway," Armblast grinned, following her into her apartment. Éclair just grunted again and shuffled off toward her bathroom.

After staring balefully at her reflection in the mirror once she'd splashed water on her face, Éclair brushed her teeth and her long hair, then pulled on the clothes she'd brought into the bathroom with her. Following Armblast's suggestion, she had chosen to wear the more proper business suit she'd worn when she, Lumiere, and Armblast had visited the Energy Distribution Center, then she twisted her long hair up onto her head in a casual knot and secured it with two combs.

"So did you have fun last night?" she heard Armblast call through the bathroom door, and she stopped messing with her hair.

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, I did." She opened the bathroom door and stepped out, padding across her apartment to find the right shoes for her outfit. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, tilting his head and studying her. "Hmmm. Yes, you should pass muster today as far as Madam Tyrian is concerned. But we need to get a move on or we'll be late."

"Do I get breakfast at least?" Éclair asked, moving toward her refrigerator and peering inside.

"You don't have anything in there," Armblast pointed out. "So I guess it's breakfast at Fleur again for you." He glanced at her hair. "That reminds me, did you wash your hair last night like Madam Tyrian told you to?"

"Yeah, it's why I didn't get to sleep until late," Éclair sighed, tugging on one of the long locks that had worked its way out from the combs.

"Come on, then, sleepyhead, let's go."

* * *

Armblast and Éclair arrived at L'Ecole a few minutes early, and once again, the young woman was intimidated at the size of the place, but she visibly squared her shoulders and marched up to the front door. One of the servants she had seen yesterday opened the door, and escorted the pair to the drawing room once again, where Madam Tyrian was seated, sipping her tea and studying some papers. 

"Your guests, madam," the serving girl murmured before withdrawing, and the society matron glanced up.

"Good, I am glad to see that this time you are punctual, Miss Éclair. Please sit."

Cautiously Éclair sat down, trying to remember the correct posture that Madam Tyrian had taught her the day before, and almost managed it.

Madam Tyrian caught her at it and smiled faintly as Armblast took his own seat beside Éclair. "Better. You're learning. Now, today's lessons are going to be on the art of personal enhancement."

"Excuse me?" Éclair looked bewildered.

"Makeup, hair care, skin care, clothing, and so on," Madam Tyrian clarified, her eyes going to Éclair's hair. "Ah, good, I see that you followed my instructions from yesterday. Are you ready, Miss Éclair?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," Éclair admitted, her hands fidgeting with the folds of her skirt. "I never really thought much about how all that stuff is done."

"Then come with me. Inspector, you may return at five to pick up Miss Éclair. Thank you for bringing her."

"It was no trouble at all, Madam Tyrian," Armblast replied, getting to his feet and bowing. "I will see you two ladies later."

For a moment, Éclair looked slightly panicked at the idea of being left alone at the school, but then she gritted her teeth, resolving not to show any sign of weakness around the auditor. It was a vain hope, however, for he gently put one hand on her shoulder and murmured, "Chin up," before leaving.

Madam Tyrian also rose, and gestured through the open doorway of the drawing room. "Shall we, Miss Éclair?"

The young woman followed her down the hallway and into a large, well-lit sitting room. Several small tables were set up, many with mirrors, and virtually covered with all manner of bottles, jars, brushes, combs, and the like. Two women, not much older than Éclair herself, were quietly chatting when Éclair and Madam Tyrian walked in, but they broke off their conversation and nodded politely to the society matron.

"Estelle, Marie, this is my latest student, Miss Éclair. We will be starting with the basics today, and progressing to the more advanced techniques later this afternoon."

"Very good, madam," they chorused, and Estelle drew out a chair for Éclair to sit. Feeling distinctly nervous, and wrinkling her nose slightly at the strong smell of hairspray, Éclair sat down in front of one of the vanities, while Madam Tyrian took a seat nearby.

"It is often said that 'clothes maketh the man,' or woman, in this instance," Madam Tyrian began while Marie draped a smock over Éclair and pulled the combs from her hair. "However, you can wear the most stunning outfit in the galaxy, and still look disreputable, if you do not maintain certain general standards of appearance. As such, we teach the skills of using makeup, as well as how to care for your hair and your skin, as to always present a well-maintained image."

Meanwhile, Estelle was standing behind Éclair, holding her hair in her hands and studying the ends, as well as occasionally lightly tugging on a strand or two. Picking up a brush, she began pulling it through Éclair's hair from crown to end, carefully working out any tangles until it fell in long, graceful waves down to her shoulderblades. "She has lovely hair, doesn't she? This should be easy to work with, for a change."

Marie, on the other hand, had been rummaging through several of the bottles on the vanities, placing a few of them on a tray that she then carried over to where Éclair sat and handing the girl a headband. "If you'd please put this on, miss..."

Carefully Éclair slid the headband on so that it held her hair completely back from her face, and Marie studied her critically.

"Hmmm... good skin, good facial structure." She took Éclair's chin in her hand and turned her face toward the light, and then she grinned and leaned down to whisper, "A word of advice, though. Cut down on the fast food, or you'll ruin your skin."

Éclair blushed. "How do you know what I eat?"

Marie lightly traced one finger along the curve of her jaw. "You have a slight tendency to break out along here, don't you?" Éclair nodded. "That's because of your diet. You don't have to give it up entirely, just in moderation. Okay?"

Éclair smiled, a little more at ease with the other girl's friendly manner. "Okay."

Marie then became more businesslike while Estelle took a seat near Madam Tyrian. "Now, the basics. Your skin is your canvas, and like any artist, you want a clean canvas before you begin." She picked up several cotton balls from the tray beside the bottles she had set there earlier, and soaked one of them in a rose-scented liquid. "You're not allergic to flowers, right?"

Éclair shook her head. "No. Madam Tyrian asked me that yesterday. Why do you ask?"

"Well, for one thing, rose water and orange water are two wonderful astringents for cleansing the skin, and they smell heavenly. Not mixed, of course." She smiled. "So, what you need to do is this."

For the next hour, she demonstrated to Éclair how to completely cleanse her skin, starting at her forehead, working along her nose, cheekbones, jawline, and eyelids. Then she had Éclair copy her until her skin was clean. The slight tingle of the astringent felt delicious on Éclair's skin, then Marie handed her a small jar of lotion, and taught her the use of moisturizer.

"Careful how you rub it into your skin," Marie cautioned. "You don't want to pull your skin every which way, or you'll give yourself wrinkles."

"Seems like a lot of work if I have such good skin like you say I do," Éclair murmured as she eased up on the pressure.

"Well, you want to take care of what you have," Estelle chimed in. "After all, how long do you think you'd still have good skin if you didn't try to take care of it?"

"I see your point," Éclair admitted. "So now what?"

Estelle came over to show her how to lightly trim and tweeze her eyebrows, while Marie moved aside the skin care bottles and carefully selected an array of cosmetics. Éclair tried not to fidget while Estelle went to work with the tweezers, but she couldn't stop her eyes from watering, and then she started sneezing.

Estelle and Marie both laughed, and Éclair blushed. "Oh, it's okay," they reassured her. "It happens all the time. Eventually you get used to it."

"Now, the fun part!" Marie declared, and Éclair looked up at her.

"And that is...?"

The other girl held up a fat makeup brush.

* * *

"Remember how I said your skin is your canvas? Well, now you get to paint on it!" 

"What colours have you selected for her?" Madam Tyrian asked, peering at the tray, and Marie brought the tray over for her inspection. The matron studied them critically, then glanced over at Éclair. "Hmm... yes, that will do. Her eyes are the focal point, I take it?"

"Yes, madam. With such an unusual color, it seems a shame to focus on anything else."

Madam Tyrian nodded, and Marie brought the tray back over, and set it down in front of Éclair, who leaned forward and stared at all of the jars and compacts on the tray.

"All of that... just for me?"

"Yes, it's all for you." Marie pointed with the makeup brush. "Foundation, four shades of eyeshadow, two shades of blush, eyeliner, mascara, lip liner, and lipstick."

"Oh... wait!" Éclair protested in dismay. "I can't wear lipstick!"

Marie frowned, and looked at Madam Tyrian, who sighed.

"I'd forgotten about that. Just lipliner for her, Marie. I'll explain later."

"Yes, madam."

She then pulled up a stool so she was sitting just above Éclair, and turned her so her face was more toward the light. "Ready? Here we go!"

And so Éclair began learning about how to apply foundation ("For your skin, I'd recommend a liquid, not a powder"), how to apply eyeliner, the use of multiple shades of eyeshadow to bring out the color of her eyes ("With eyes like that, you could stop a man in his tracks"), the use of blush to make her cheekbones look more elegant, and mascara to bring out her lashes. Putting on the lipliner, however, took a serious act of concentration, as Éclair had to keep telling herself that it shouldn't be enough to trigger her power.

When Marie was done, Éclair stared at herself in the mirror, while Marie and Estelle grinned.

"Whoa..."

It had been over two hours, and yet, it hardly looked like she was wearing makeup at all. But... everything about her face looked more... more...

"Polished," Madam Tyrian said in approval, standing up and peering more closely at her. "I think that's the word you are looking for, Miss Éclair."

"Yes," she breathed. "I thought with all that stuff you were putting on me, I'd look like you had slapped it on with a trowel, but it's so subtle."

"Indeed," Marie said in satisfaction. "This is your daytime look. For evenings, you would wear slightly more dramatic colours, and a bit more obvious in the application." She handed Éclair another rose water-soaked cotton ball. "Now, clean it just like I taught you."

"Oh, can't I leave it on?" Éclair pleaded, and Marie chuckled.

"Nope, that comes starting tomorrow, when we test you to see how well you remember what you learned today. Come on now, clean it off."

Pouting slightly in disappointment, Éclair cleaned her skin just as Marie had taught her, then Estelle took over.

"Now, for your hair. How often do you wash it?"

"How often? Um... once every two to three days," Éclair admitted. "Anything more than that and it gets all frizzy and stuff."

Estelle went on asking question after question about Éclair's hair - what shampoo she used, how often she blow-dried it, if she ever used a conditioner, what type of brush she used, and so forth. The whole time, she kept fiddling with Éclair's hair, sometimes picking up a handful of it and letting it slide through her fingers, other times gathering it in her hands and piling it up on top of the girl's head.

"What do you think, madam?" she said at last, turning to Madam Tyrian. "Cut it?"

The society matron shook her head. "No, leave it long. Later this week you'll trim it, of course, and just a hint of styling. That should be all she needs."

"Yes, madam." Estelle had Éclair remove the headband she'd worn during the makeup lesson.

"Now, Miss Éclair, with hair like yours, you'll want to make sure you keep washing it like you do now. However, cut down on how much shampoo you use, and starting tomorrow, you'll begin using a conditioner, but only once a week. Very lightly, mind you - you don't want to weigh your hair down." She picked up a brush that was wrapped in plastic and gave it to Éclair. "And this is the brush I want you to use from now on. Do you prefer your hair to look wavy or straight?"

"Actually, I never gave it much thought," Éclair replied, tilting her head. "I guess it depends on my mood."

"Okay, then, for the days you want your hair to be a bit more straight, after you've washed your hair, use a wooden comb to comb through it while it's still wet. For heaven's sake, don't use your brush, you'll pull your hair out or break it."

Éclair blushed, for she often did just that after showering.

Madam Tyrian glanced over at a clock on the wall. "Perhaps now would be a good time for a break for lunch."

"Thank God, I'm starving," Éclair said with feeling, then she blushed again as Madam Tyrian shot her a look. "I'm sorry."

"First, lunch. After that..."

Madam Tyrian rose and picked up three extremely large books from a nearby table, then turned around to look at Éclair with a definite twinkle in her eyes.

_To be continued_...


	6. Posture, Posture, Posture

_Note: All right, all right, I apologize already that it's taken this long to get back to 'A Crash Course in Elegance.' But what with moving, NaNoWriMo, getting sick, trying to launch the Samuraiko Productions website, and a host of other problems, I've gotten almost NO writing done! But fear not, I am back in business (until the holidays hit)! Would you believe I actually had to go back and re-read the story to figure out where I was? I had no idea I was so funny, if I do say so myself. Anyway, onwards!_

* * *

**A Crash Course in Elegance**

_Chapter Six_

Éclair followed Madam Tyrian down the hall toward the large dining room, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the rumbling in her stomach. The society matron gave her a look over her shoulder, and Éclair reddened.

"Sorry, I _did_ eat before I came here," she protested, and Madam Tyrian sighed and led Éclair into the dining room, gesturing her to a seat. Éclair sat, quickly glanced down at the table, and picked up her napkin to carefully lay it in her lap, skipping the quick snap that Madam Tyrian managed so easily.

"So, Miss Éclair, how much do you remember from the other day?"

Éclair frowned. "Do you mean the rules, the food, or the whole silverware thing?"

"Primarily the 'whole silverware thing,' as you call it. Begin."

The girl pointed to each of the silverware pieces in turn, giving its function and when it was used. Each time she made a mistake, Madam Tyrian made her go back to the beginning and do it again, refusing to have the food served until she could do it right, no matter how loudly Éclair's stomach was growling. Finally, after almost half an hour, Éclair was able to rattle them off correctly.

"Good," Madam Tyrian said at last, and Éclair let out a sigh of relief. "Now, let's see if you can remember while you are actually eating and trying to carry on a conversation."

Éclair blanched as Estelle, the serving maid, came out bearing a tray with the first course.

Madam Tyrian took pity on Éclair as far as conversation went, taking the time to primarily explain the history of the school or tell the occasional tale of some of her students. Éclair nodded, asking a question every now and again, and very obviously wondering how people were supposed to split their attention between their food and making good conversation.

Then she realized that Madam Tyrian had asked her a question.

"I-I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I asked you what you did last evening after leaving here."

"Oh. Well, Inspector Armblast took me out for dinner. He just kept badgering me about how I had no food in my apartment, so I agreed to go."

"Did he now? Where did you two end up going?"

"Um, some place called Mancuso's, I think it was, down near G.O.T.T. headquarters. It was a beautiful place." Éclair's eyes had a slightly far-away expression, remembering the previous evening.

"My, my," Madam Tyrian said softly, arching her eyebrows as she sipped at her soup, glancing at Éclair over the spoon. "Did you enjoy the food? Mancuso's is an excellent restaurant, one of my favorites, actually."

"Well, it didn't start out that hot - Armblast ordered raw oysters, which were just gro-" Éclair stopped mid-sentence at the expression on the society matron's face. "Um, that is, I didn't care for them. But then I tried the snails, and those I liked, even though I thought I was going to hate them. Armblast had me try a couple of different wines and champagne, and he said that I would probably end up learning more about them here."

"Indeed, we have an afternoon class scheduled next week on wine appreciation. Contrary to popular opinion, I at least am aware that you are easily of the age to consume alcohol, even if certain establishments are not."

Éclair blushed, mentally cursing Chief Eclipse for telling Madam Tyrian about the fiasco at Ubu a while back.

"But I apologize, you were talking about your evening with Inspector Armblast."

Éclair shrugged, taking a bite of the salad that Estelle placed in front of her. "Beyond that, there's not much to talk about. We had dinner, then we danced for a while, and after that, he took me home so I could get some sleep."

"Ah, so you do dance?"

"No," the girl replied, shaking her head. "I've got two left feet when it comes to dancing. All I did was just sort of sway in Armblast's arms in time to the music, but I couldn't manage the fancy stuff that I've seen some couples do out on the dance floor."

Madam Tyrian studied Éclair as they ate in silence for a little while.

"Tell me, Miss Éclair, I'm curious... what do you think of the auditor?"

"Armblast?" Éclair said in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said - what do you think of the auditor?"

Éclair tilted her head and considered the question, biting back her initial urge to blurt out her usual scathing opinion of him since Madam Tyrian must have some reason to ask.

"Well... he's very good at his job, negotiating and things like that," she said slowly. "Chief Eclipse seems to trust him. He dresses well, I'll give him that. And... well, he can be charming... sometimes. Every now and again. In that high-handed way of his."

Madam Tyrian hid her smile.

* * *

After an hour over lunch, where even Éclair had to admit to a flicker of pride for getting through the meal without drawing too much criticism from Madam Tyrian, she followed the older woman through the mansion to a large room with mirrors covering two of the walls, and a long railing at roughly hip height that ran nearly the length of one wall. 

Éclair stopped near the door. "This looks like a dancer's studio I was in once."

"Yes, it is - or at least, that is one use for this room," Madam Tyrian replied, moving a ways into the room and then turning to face Éclair. "We also use this room for posture and body awareness training."

"Body awareness?"

"Yes. If you would, please walk the length of the room and back."

"Just... walk?"

"Yes."

Éclair was puzzled, but did as she was bade, Madam Tyrian intently studying her the entire time.

"Not bad, but still some room for improvement," she announced after Éclair returned to her starting point.

"How do you improve on walking?" Éclair said in honest confusion. "Is putting one foot in front of the other that difficult?"

Madam Tyrian gave her a scathing look, and the girl went red.

"Your walk makes a statement. Watch."

Her head held high, Madam Tyrian strode the length of the room and back. "Confidence, Miss Éclair. Walk as though you have a purpose, but not so much so that people feel the need to dive out of your way." Éclair laughed.

"Other times, you wish to convey dignity. A more stately gait is called for." Once again, Madam Tyrian crossed the room, her stride slightly slower, but no less elegant. "This is how you should walk normally. Elegance, always elegance."

"Wow, it's almost like your feet hardly touch the floor," Éclair said admiringly. "I'm just glad to know I don't have to walk like those models on the catwalk - you know, where they swing their hips so much that you think they're going to fall off the runway."

"Well, a more alluring walk does have its purposes," Madam Tyrian admitted. "It can be quite effective when you wish to really make an entrance, as it were. Like this."

Éclair was never certain afterwards exactly how the short society matron did it, but as Madam Tyrian walked the length of the room a third time, there was a change in her posture and stride in such a manner that Éclair knew if she'd been a man, she would have stopped and watched her walk.

"How did you DO that?" she blurted out.

"Practice, Miss Éclair, lots of practice. Now, we begin. First, your posture - I want you to stand up straight."

Éclair was about to protest that she was standing up straight, but held back the comment and did as she was told.

"Hmmm." The matron studied her, then shook her head. "Just a moment." She walked over to where a small filing cabinet was shoved in a corner, rummaged through it, and came back over with a large roll of what looked like duct tape. "Take off your jacket, Miss Éclair."

Puzzled, she did so, then she let out a yelp as the woman turned her around and pulled her blouse out from her skirt. "Hey, what are you-?"

Madam Tyrian quickly brought a stool over, whisked Éclair's blouse up so it was half over her head, and tore off a strip of the tape.

"I said stand up straight, Miss Éclair." When Éclair did so, Madam Tyrian stuck the tape across her shoulderblades so that Éclair couldn't slouch forward, then pulled Éclair's blouse back into place.

"Ow, that hurts!"

"That's the idea. This is a much more effective means of teaching posture. Now..."

She climbed down, went and collected a rather large book, climbed up onto the stool, and balanced the book on Éclair's head. "Now, Miss Éclair, walk the length of the room and back, trying to keep the book balanced on your head."

Grimacing, Éclair began to walk forward, but only got about ten steps before the book clattered to the floor. She leaned forward to pick it up, but let out a yelp as the tape pulled on her shoulders.

"Do not bend forward. Crouch down slowly, keeping your knees together, and pick up the book."

Wincing, Éclair picked it up, balanced it back on her head again, and tried again. Each time, Madam Tyrian would call out advice to her as she walked.

"Keep your shoulders back and your head up."

"Try not to bounce as you walk, you are not a cheerleader, Miss Éclair."

"Roll your stride from heel to toe."

At first, Éclair had the bad habit of slightly drifting to one side as she walked, because her attention was divided between the book on her head and the tape on her back. Shortly after that, however, she figured out that if she glanced at the mirrors every fourth or fifth step, she was able to keep moving forward in a straight line. After an hour of practice, Éclair was able to cross the length of the room and back while still balancing the book on her head. After two, she was able to do it without making faces and grimacing as she kept her balance.

"Very good," Madam Tyrian praised her as she returned, lightly stepping down from the stool. "Now sit."

Éclair did, but the book fell as she did so.

"Stand up, and pick that up. Then do it again."

For the next thirty minutes, it was stand, sit, stand, sit, turn around, all with the book on her head, until Éclair was ready to hurl the book across the room. By the end of the third hour, her feet were killing her, her shoulders felt as though a two-by-four had been nailed across them, and the top of her head ached from the weight of the book.

"So when do I learn how to do that other walk?" she groaned, gratefully sitting down when Madam Tyrian called for a quick break.

"Well, if your feet and your temperament are up to it, I can show you now. Unless you're too tired, of course..."

"No, no!" Éclair quickly got up once again, balancing the book on her head as she did so.

"Now, the key to walking like that is being able to move the hips without moving the shoulders. You've already begun to learn how to do that with your regular walk. The primary difference is the exaggeration of the movement."

Éclair blinked in confusion.

"Stand in front of the mirror," Madam Tyrian ordered, and Éclair moved to face the mirror. "Now, have you ever seen how a belly dancer dances?"

"Yeah... I mean, yes."

"Good. Very slowly, try to imitate that movement."

Éclair bit her lip and carefully moved her hips in a circle, trying to keep her shoulders level and still, while still keeping the book balanced on her head.

"This feels funny, like my body is all separate parts."

"That is how you begin," Madam Tyrian explained. "Later, the parts come together to form a whole, and as you saw, the effect can be quite striking."

For the next hour, Éclair learned to shift her weight by using her feet and her legs, rather than leading with her upper body. In a way, she realized it was not unlike keeping her balance on Donnerschlag or the training in the grid room of the G.O.T.T.

"Very good, Miss Éclair," Madam Tyrian said approvingly. "Now, walk the length of the room, but close your eyes. I will tell you when you are to stop and turn around."

Éclair closed her eyes, slightly squared her shoulders, made sure to keep the book balanced, and managed a passable imitation of the almost undulating movement of Madam Tyrian's earlier demonstration.

"Stop. Now turn around, and come back."

Completely unaware that Armblast had arrived and was standing in the doorway, Éclair turned around, and walked back, all of her attention on her walk.

"Stop. Not too bad, Miss Éclair," the matron told her, and Éclair let out a sigh of relief, until she heard Armblast's voice.

"Yes, not bad at all."

Her eyes flew open to see the auditor in the doorway, grinning at her, and she blushed at the thought of Armblast watching her making a fool of herself.

"How the time flies when one is having fun," Madam Tyrian said sardonically. "Five o' clock already, Inspector? Very well, you may rescue Miss Éclair for the day. I am sure she is quite footsore as it is, so I do not recommend taking her dancing this evening."

"Pity," Armblast said cheerfully as Éclair set the book down on the stool. "Is feeding her still allowed, though?"

"Of course. I heard you introduced Miss Éclair to the delights of Mancuso's last evening."

"Well, it was a little celebration," the auditor shrugged. "And I daresay that even Éclair would admit that she had a good time."

"Do you have to talk about me like I'm not here?" Éclair complained.

"Sorry," Armblast grinned.

"Before you leave, Miss Éclair..." Madam Tyrian stepped up onto the stool and gestured for Éclair to approach.

"What? Oh, of course." Éclair turned to Armblast. "And YOU can turn away for a few minutes."

It wasn't until Éclair had again pulled her blouse up so Madam Tyrian could remove the tape - causing her to let out a screech of pain as it was yanked free - that she noticed that although Armblast had turned away per her instructions, he was watching her in the mirror with a wide smile on his face.

"YOU PERVERT!" she howled, snatching up the book and throwing it at the inspector, who nimbly side-stepped it and quickly moved out into the hallway. Snatching up her jacket and frantically tugging her clothes back into place, Éclair dashed after him, bellowing threats at the top of her lungs, and leaving behind a bemused and chuckling Madam Tyrian.

_To be continued_...


	7. Close Enough for Comfort

_Note: Holy crap, it's been THREE MONTHS?! I sincerely apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. Admittedly, I sort of lost where I wanted this story to go, and rather than post crap, I elected to wait until inspiration struck again. It helped that the latest AMV I am working on ("The Heroes of Anime") features the guys from KG, so it gave me an excuse to go back and re-watch parts of the series. Hopefully, that helped._

* * *

**A Crash Course in Elegance**

_Chapter Seven_

"I think it's safe for you to unfold your arms now, Éclair," Armblast teased her, but she resolutely kept her arms across her chest and stared defiantly out the window.

"I should have known your true colours were going to show up eventually," she snarled. "Lech."

"Oh come now, I'm not as bad as all that," he said soothingly as he pulled up outside of her apartment. But before he could come around to her side of the car to open her door and help her out, Éclair was out of the car like a shot and halfway to the front door.

"Whoa, Éclair, slow down."

"I don't need your assistance," she hissed, not turning around as she jammed her key into the lock. Startled, Armblast followed her up the stairs to her apartment, but as Éclair opened her door and prepared to slam it in his face, he shoved his briefcase into the gap before the door could close completely.

"What in the world has gotten into you?" he said in amazement, but Éclair lifted her foot and began kicking at his briefcase to unjam it from her door.

"Just go away, all right?"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Éclair kept pushing with her foot, but Armblast wasn't about to give in, and finally she gave up and stalked off, leaving him to push the door open and follow her inside.

"I didn't invite you in!" she snapped, but the auditor wasn't fazed.

"Can we discuss whatever has you wound up like this like two civilized adults?"

Éclair whirled around and stabbed her finger against his chest. "CIVILIZED ADULTS?" she howled. "After you humiliate me in front of half the G.O.T.T. since the very first day of this damned assignment, patronize me like some backward child, and then make me look like an absolute idiot in front of Madam Tyrian by behaving like some sex-starved teenager?!"

Armblast backed up from the force of the vehemence in her voice. "Éclair, I-"

Then he was absolutely stunned to see tears in her amber eyes and she turned on her heel to stride off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

The auditor stood in silence for a few moments, listening to the faintly muffled sounds of what sounded like sniffling coming from her bathroom, then he carefully made his way to stand beside the closed door.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet but sincere.

"J-just go a-away. P-please?"

"I can't do that, Éclair. Please come out."

"N-no."

"Come on, what happened to the ES member who's not afraid of anything?"

There was a long pause, then Armblast heard faintly:

"She's not g-good enough for anyone any m-more."

The auditor sighed and rested his forehead against the bathroom door.

"That's not true, Éclair... it was never true. Please... just come out."

"Go away."

"I'm not leaving. Get used to the idea."

"Go to hell."

"No, thank you, I've already been to G.O.T.T. headquarters at least four times today."

He thought he heard a laugh at that, but it was quickly stifled.

"And besides, Éclair, even you can only stay in there so long."

As though lending credence to his words, he heard a low rumbling coming from the other side of the door.

"See, at least your stomach agrees with me."

"My stomach would agree with the Nouvlesse at this point if it thought that the Nouvlesse would feed it," Éclair growled.

"Well, I'm not Nouvlesse, but I can at least feed you."

"So you can embarrass me again? No, thank you."

"Éclair, I said I was sorry, and I meant it," he replied with a sigh. "Look, you were right. About all of it. And I apologize. Come on, don't shut me out, okay?"

"Just go away, Armblast," came Éclair's voice wearily. "I just want to be left alone for a little while."

For a long time, neither one of them said anything.

"Please, Éclair..."

There was no sound from the other side of the door, and at last, Armblast sighed again and moved to go. But as he reached the front door, he heard the bathroom door open and saw Éclair standing there, looking at him. Her outfit was all rumpled, her hair a disheveled mess around her shoulders, and her face was streaked with tears.

It was odd, the auditor thought. In all the time he had known Éclair, he could not remember a time that he had ever seen her cry. She was always the one who laughed, no matter the circumstances. And he didn't realize how much it would hurt, knowing he'd been the one to cause her tears.

"Éclair?" he asked quietly, not moving toward her, waiting for her to say something.

For a full minute, she didn't speak, but then she gave a loud sniff and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I want ice cream."

Armblast looked startled for only an instant, but then he regained his usual poise and bowed politely.

"Very well... ice cream it is."

And Éclair gave him a watery smile.

* * *

A little while later, after Éclair had cleaned herself up, the two were walking in the park near Éclair's apartment, quietly eating ice cream cones and not saying much to one another. For a while, they leaned against the railing along the river's edge, watching the water flow by, and the occasional boat drifting along the water. 

"Is that going to be enough for you for dinner?" he finally asked her as she finished the last of her ice cream cone.

"I... well, I am still a little hungry, but I don't want anything fancy," she admitted. "Comfort food, you know?"

He looked puzzled, and she laughed. "What, auditors don't eat comfort food?"

"I can't say that I even know what it is. But if it'll make you happy, you choose where to eat."

So Éclair led him down one of the alleys near the park to a small restaurant that she sometimes ate at after work, and was greeted by the elderly man at a nearby table with a friendly wave.

"Evening, Éclair," he called cheerfully. "Haven't seen you around the last couple of nights!"

"I've been busy," she said. "Sorry about that."

"Not at all... Pat'll be right over, sit wherever you'd like."

Armblast followed her to a table at one end of the restaurant, carefully pulled her chair out for her, then seated himself.

"I don't think I've ever been in here before," he told her as he picked up the menu. He wasn't surprised to see that a full meal here cost less than an appetizer at Mancuso's, but he was also well aware of Éclair's usual budget restrictions. If it would make her happy to eat here, they'd eat here. It was the least he could do after acting like a heel earlier.

"Not too many people know about it," Éclair replied. "I found it when I first moved here, and was roaming around getting to know everyone. But I love it here."

Armblast looked around him with interest. Various abstract prints hung up on the walls, candles were set in wine bottles on each of the tables, and the whole place had a warm and welcoming feel to it, down-to-earth and unpretentious.

Much like Éclair herself.

As he glanced back at her, he could see that she was slowly relaxing, and looked much more like herself now.

"Feeling better?" he asked her softly, and she momentarily looked startled. But then she collected herself and nodded slowly. "Good."

"Did I really look that bad before?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair self-consciously.

"You looked upset."

"Why should you care?"

He was saved from answering by a new voice.

"Hello, Éclair," they heard, and the two of them glanced up to see an older woman come strolling over.

"Hi, Pat. This is Inspector Armblast. Armblast, this is Pat. She owns this place."

"Pleasure to meet you, Inspector. Éclair must really like you," Pat said with a grin.

Éclair gasped, but Armblast just grinned. "Oh? Why do you say that?"

"She only brings people she likes here. I can't remember the last time she brought anyone with her but Lumiere, so you must be something special."

"PAT!" Éclair exclaimed, blushing as red as the tablecloth.

"Well, this is certainly an evening of discovery," Armblast chuckled. "So tell me, what would you recommend for dinner? Éclair mentioned that she wanted comfort food this evening."

"Ah... one of those days, huh?" Pat gave Éclair a commiserating look. "Well, tonight's special is chicken divan, just the way that Éclair likes it."

The young woman's stomach growled loudly at that, and she turned even redder as Pat and Armblast laughed. "Oh, shut up, the both of you."

"Two, please," Armblast said politely. "And two glasses of your house white, please."

"Be just a few minutes. Soup, Éclair?"

"Oh, you made happy soup tonight?" Éclair said in delight. "Yes, please!"

"For your friend, too?"

Éclair nodded. "Yeah, you may as well show him what this place is famous for."

"'Happy soup'?" Armblast asked dryly as Pat headed into the back to prepare their meals.

Éclair grinned self-consciously. "Well, that's what I call it. Pat makes this absolutely delicious soup that normally has this really long name, but you can't help but feel happy when you eat it. So... 'happy soup.'"

"What's in it?"

"It's got chicken broth, and rice, and egg, lemon and a couple of spices I can't remember off the top of my head."

He frowned in thought. "Sounds like avgolemono."

"That's it," she said, recognizing the name. "You've had it before?"

"It's an ancient Earth recipe, Greek, I believe."

"Well, whatever it is, it's delicious," Éclair said wistfully. "And Pat makes it the best."

"Flattery, flattery," they heard as Pat placed two steaming bowls in front of them, then left again.

Armblast was pleasantly surprised by the soup as he sipped at it. Tangy with a hint of salt, he could appreciate why Éclair would call it 'happy soup.' He was more interested, however, in the blissfully happy look on Éclair's face as she ate, practically purring as she enjoyed her soup, and then later her dinner.

"You really are a food sensualist, you know that?" he teased her, and she shrugged as she nibbled on her chicken divan.

"I can think of worse things in the world to be," she replied, sipping her wine and studying Armblast over the rim of her glass.

"True," he admitted.

For a little while, they ate in silence, and then Armblast set down his wineglass and leaned back in his chair to study her.

"What now?" she asked, squirming in her seat under his steady gaze.

"I was just..." He paused, then shrugged. "Nothing. So, tell me about your day today."

She rubbed the top of her head with a self-conscious smile. "Posture lessons, as you saw. I think I'm a couple of inches shorter after having that book on my head all day."

"What was up with the tape on your back?"

"Oh, that. Madam Tyrian says I slouch a bit, so she stuck this thing of duct tape across my shoulders. I also got to learn about makeup and stuff today." Her eyes lit up as she remembered seeing herself in the mirror. "I honestly thought it was gonna look like they put it on with a trowel, but... I looked GOOD."

"Pity they didn't let you leave it on, I'd have liked to have seen it," he said sincerely, and she blushed slightly.

"Well, I have to learn how to do it myself, so tomorrow I get to prove how much I remember. And it only took me about half an hour today at lunch to remember everything about the whole silverware thing."

He laughed at that, taking another sip of his wine. "So what's on the curriculum for tomorrow?"

"Um... flowers, I think," she said, trying to remember. "And knowing Madam Tyrian, I'll have to show how much I remember from today and the day before."

"I'm curious... what kind of flowers DO you like?" he asked, leaning forward on his elbows to study her.

"I... never really thought about it," she said slowly. "I'm not exactly used to getting them, you know?"

"Well, think about it now. Roses? Daisies? Lilies? Birds of paradise? Venus flytraps?"

Éclair laughed, and Armblast grinned.

"Why, you gonna buy me flowers? Careful, Armblast, I might think you're trying to romance me..."

"Well, you never know..."

_To be continued_...


	8. A Rose By Any Other Name

_Note: Okay, I will have you know. I made a DELIBERATE effort to not write anything else and focus on this, because people keep asking me when I was going to post the next chapter. (Which was damned difficult, let me tell you, because I am currently on a bender for writing for a half dozen different fandoms.) But since this little wonky tale of mine is so popular, and everyone is rah-rah-rahing on Éclair and Armblast, I applied backside to chair, badgered my muses for inspiration, and produced this next chapter._

* * *

**A Crash Course in Elegance**

_Chapter Eight_

"'A rose by any other name...'" Madam Tyrian quoted the next day after Éclair arrived at the school, leading the younger woman down the hallway. "Today you will learn about flowers, Miss Éclair."

"Flowers?" she frowned. "Um, what do flowers have to do with elegance?"

"Anything that enhances beauty has to do with elegance," Madam Tyrian said sharply, sweeping around a corner and into a small conservatory. Éclair followed and drew in a sharp breath at the brilliant profusion of flowers that bloomed all around her.

"Ohhhhhh..." she whispered. "They're beautiful."

"Indeed," the society matron agreed. "And today you will learn about them. How they should be presented at a social setting, what it means if you give them to someone, and what it means if you receive them. The language of flowers is an ancient and mysterious one, Miss Éclair."

"'The language of flowers'?" Éclair repeated, confused.

"Goodness, young lady, haven't you ever been given flowers before?"

Éclair blushed slightly. "Well, not really. No."

Madam Tyrian turned to look at her in surprise. "No?"

The ES member shook her head. "Well, Lumiere occasionally brings me flowers to brighten my apartment, but that's not really the same thing."

"Remind me to have a word with Inspector Armblast," Madam Tyrian said darkly, and Éclair waved her hands in alarm.

"Oh, no, nonononono, don't give him _any_ encouragement. I have a hard enough time getting rid of him as it is!"

The society matron raised her eyebrows at that. "Really? And here I thought you and the auditor were actually getting along quite well these last few days."

Éclair pretended a sudden fascination with the floor, and Madam Tyrian raised her eyes to the ceiling in an I-give-up gesture. "Be that as it may, Miss Éclair, you must still be prepared for what a gift of flowers means. So..."

With that, she took Éclair by the elbow and began leading her up and down the aisles of the conservatory.

"As a general rule, roses make an acceptable gift, not the least of which is because of the vast variety of colours. White indicates purity, not to mention it rarely clashes with anyone's clothing, when presented as a corsage or decoration. Yellow indicates friendship, while pink represents affection or in some instances, a secret admirer."

"Really?" Éclair was trying her hardest to pay attention, but her eyes were constantly drawn by the more exotic flowers around her.

"Indeed. Red, of course, is the colour of love and passion."

For some reason, Éclair found herself blushing, and Madam Tyrian diplomatically pretended not to notice.

"Lilies are not traditionally given as gifts, as they are often associated with mourning. However, calla lilies are one exception."

"Ohhhhhh..." Éclair murmured again, bending down to study the graceful white flowers. "They're lovely..."

"I know several brides who carry these, rather than roses," Madam Tyrian remarked, lightly touching one of the blooms. "They do have a certain elegance, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah." Éclair glanced hurriedly at the society matron. "I mean, yes. But... do _all_ flowers have to be elegant?"

Madam Tyrian frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... I wouldn't exactly call a daisy or a carnation elegant. They're just... _pretty_. Not like some of these."

"Ah, I see." Madam Tyrian led Éclair down a different aisle. "Those are either used as decoration, or given as a friendly gesture."

"Hmm... maybe I'll send Alv and Dvergr some poison ivy, to plant in their mouths. It should do well there," Éclair said tartly.

Madam Tyrian gave her a scolding glance. "That's not exactly what the point of this lesson is, Miss Éclair."

Éclair, however, abruptly stopped, her eyes on a particular rosebush. "Oh, WOW!" She crouched down to peer more closely at the roses - white at the bottom of the petals, fanning out to a deep crimson at the edges. Eagerly she leaned forward, cupped one of the blossoms in her hand, and inhaled, and was delighted by their almost sweet scent. "Oh, they're _wonderful_!"

Madam Tyrian gave her a faint smile. "I shouldn't be surprised that you'd like those."

"I've never seen roses that look like _this_!"

"That particular type of rose is a hybrid."

Éclair looked puzzled. "You mean, people breed these things?"

"Indeed. Certain varieties simply don't exist in nature, so they are cultivated and bred. For example..." Madam Tyrian pointed to another rosebush, and Éclair glanced over and saw that the roses there were a faint lavender color.

"Weird."

"To _you_, perhaps. Or how about..." Madam Tyrian pointed to a different rosebush, and Éclair's eyes widened at the sight of roses of a red so deep that they appeared almost black. "That particular type is known as the Black Prince."

"Ugh... those are almost morbid." Éclair shook her head. "No, I think I prefer flowers like these. Do these have a name?"

"Cherry Parfait, as a matter of fact."

Éclair turned and grinned. "Just my luck, I like a rose named for a dessert!" She turned back to the rose and inhaled again, then let out her breath in a happy sigh. "Oh, I'll have to talk Lumiere into bringing these for me on a regular basis."

"We still have a great deal to do, Miss Éclair," Madam Tyrian pointed out, and Éclair reluctantly got up to follow her.

For the next two hours, Éclair learned about several different types of flowers, as well as how to create arrangements. To both her surprise and Madam Tyrian's, she had a good eye for arranging, although she did tend toward creating rather large and showy bouquets. However, when she accidentally pricked her fingers several times on thorns, she let out a string of curses that earned her a scathing glance from the matron, and Éclair was subdued for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

On their way to lunch, she and Madam Tyrian were stopped in the hall by a young woman who looked to be a few years older than Éclair. The moment she opened her mouth, however, Éclair gritted her teeth at the uncanny resemblance to Dvergr and Tweedledee's cultivated tones. 

"I apologize for disturbing you, Madam Tyrian, but I'd like a moment to discuss the soiree next week."

"I beg your pardon, Miss Éclair, this will only take a moment."

"Sure, go ahead," Éclair replied with a wave of her hand, earning another dark look. While Madam Tyrian and the other woman held a quick discussion, Éclair fidgeted uncomfortably. Next to the other woman's elegant clothes and confident posture, she felt like a child playing dress-up, and was relieved when the conversation was finished and the other woman had left.

"Was something bothering you, Miss Éclair?" Madam Tyrian asked as the two sat down at the dining room table.

"Was it that obvious?" Éclair grimaced and stared down at the table. "Well... next to her, I felt... I don't know. Less."

"Less what?"

"It's hard to explain. Maybe 'inadequate' is a better word." She shrugged. "But it was really her _voice_ that did it. She reminded me of Dvergr and Tweedledee. They both sound so... so... snarky."

At that, Madam Tyrian gave her a raised eyebrow. "'Snarky?'"

"Yeah, you know... 'I'm so much better than everyone else.'"

"Do you consider _my_ voice to be... snarky?"

Éclair managed not to turn quite as red as the roses she'd been studying earlier. "To be honest... a little. But you're at least trying to be nice to me."

"Perhaps we should start you on elocution, then. That way, you can hold your own in the face of snarkiness."

That startled a laugh out of Éclair.

As Genevieve began bringing out the first course, Éclair once again had to recite the order of the use of silverware, and this time managed to get through it with only minimal mistakes.

"Not bad, Miss Éclair," Madam Tyrian said approvingly, nodding in indication that Éclair could begin eating. "There may be hope for you yet."

"Armblast was drilling me on it last night at dinner," Éclair admitted, sipping at her soup.

"Ah, where did you go this time?"

"Just a small place near my apartment. Nothing fancy like that restaurant he took me to the first night. Besides, he _owed_ me after that stupid stunt he pulled yesterday."

Madam Tyrian gave her a sympathetic look. "Yes, I can understand that the auditor can be quite trying at times. But perhaps you will be the woman to one day put him in his place."

"If I _knew_ where his 'place' was, I'd be happy to put him in it," Éclair said darkly.

* * *

After lunch, Éclair followed Madam Tyrian into the library, where the matron gestured her to a seat. While the older woman began gathering books and placing them on the small table next to her, Éclair tried her best to remember the posture she'd learned the day before, wanting nothing more than to avoid having tape strapped across her shoulders again. 

"Don't throw your shoulders back quite that much, Miss Éclair," the matron remarked, glancing over at her. "You may have an impressive decolletage, but there's no need to call attention to it in _that_ fashion."

"Decolle-what?" Then Éclair glanced down and went beet red. "Oh."

Madam Tyrian approached and held out a book to Éclair. "Are you familiar with the notion of elocution, Miss Éclair?"

"Only that it's about how you speak, not just what you say."

"Correct. The former is elocution, the latter is oratory. We will be focusing on elocution. Open to page 126, if you would, please."

Éclair did so, finding it to be a collection of poetry. "'Invictus?'" she asked, sounding out the word.

"Indeed. It means 'unconquered' in Latin, a trait that I believe _you_ might appreciate."

At that, Éclair grinned, and Madam Tyrian nodded in agreement.

"Read the entire poem aloud. Slowly, but not exaggerated, and in a normal volume."

Éclair read it through once, making sure that she could recognize and pronounce all of the words, then began, trying her best to emulate Chief Eclipse's serene but compelling voice.

"_Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul_."

"Not bad for a first try. Round your vowels just a bit more, and go on."

"_In the fell clutch of circumstance,  
I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
Under the bludgeonings of chance  
My head is bloody, but unbowed_."

Madam Tyrian stopped her again. "Try to hear the cadence of your speech, the natural rise and fall of your voice. Read the verse again, but all in one breath."

Éclair did so, but was out of breath by the end and almost gasping.

"You see what I mean. Sounding like a dying fish does _not_ bespeak of elegance. You must learn to modulate your voice so that you control your breath as you speak. On to the next verse, please."

"_Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
And yet the menace of the years  
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid_."

"Better. However, when you do that, you tend to lose some of the expression in your voice. Mind that on the last verse."

"_It matters not how strait the gate,  
How charged with punishments the scroll,  
I am the master of my fate:  
I am the captain of my soul_."

Éclair stopped and stared down at the last verse, her lips forming the words again, but silently. Although she couldn't explain it, it was as though this nineteenth century poet was speaking directly to her. Suddenly she shivered, but then she became aware that Madam Tyrian was speaking to her and looked up hurriedly.

"Oh... I'm sorry, Madam, I was..."

"Are you all right, Miss Éclair? You looked... haunted for a moment."

"N-no... I'm fine." She looked down at the poem again. "Do... do you mind if I borrow this? I'd like to make a copy for myself."

"Of course. Now, please turn to page..."

The rest of the afternoon went on without incident, but Éclair's mind kept going back to the first poem, trying to understand why it seemed to resonate with something inside of her soul. She wished suddenly that Lumiere were there... maybe she'd be able to explain.

* * *

"So, how'd it go today?" Armblast asked her on the way home, noticing that Éclair was much quieter than usual, and she was intently staring at the book she had open in her lap. 

"It was fine..." she said absently as she re-read the poem again.

"What did you learn this time around? I noticed that you didn't have tape across your shoulders again."

"What?" With effort, she lifted her eyes from the page and turned to Armblast in the driver's seat. "Oh... no, today was flowers for the first half of the day, and elocution the second half. I had to read poetry and essays and stuff." She straightened up in her seat and unconsciously began imitating Tweedledee as she recited, "The _rain_ in _Spain_ goes _mainly_ down the _drain_.""

""Thank you, Eliza Dolittle," Armblast said wryly. "And Madam Tyrian told me that you'd found your favorite flower, apparently?"

Éclair's eyes lit up. "Yeah, she had these _gorgeous_ roses in the conservatory, called... called... oh, damn, it was _something_ dessert-related."

Armblast laughed. "You're kidding."

"No, no, I'm serious!" she protested. "They were called... oh... I remember! Cherry Parfait roses."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"That's what she said," Éclair admitted, and Armblast chuckled.

_To be continued_...


End file.
